


Little Touches

by Kkane88



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, I'm in denial about trades, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Wibbly wobbly time lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kkane88/pseuds/Kkane88
Summary: Based on the "Lil Touches" writing prompts from tumblr. Each prompt is a different chapter/pairing. All stand alone.1. Pat on the head2. Kiss on the back of their neck3. Distracted hand games4. Gentle knee/thigh caress5. Lazy hand holding6. Braiding/ brushing/ toying with hair7. Long, exhausted hug from behind8. Head on shoulder9. Brushing fingers/lips over knuckles10. Gentle hug from behind





	1. Pat on the Head

**Author's Note:**

> It's been literally years since I've written anything other than an academic paper so forgive me if this sounds stuffy. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I've also never written Skinner/Staal before and have little knowledge of the 2016 Canes.

Jeff sighed as he sat down in front of his locker, letting the quiet chatter of his teammates wash over him. They had won the game, but just barely, and it had been an exhausting battle from the first puck drop. Jeff was angry at himself. He had taken two stupid penalties, one of which was the opening Seguin needed to tie the game towards the end of the third period. When Jordan finally snuck one past Bishop in the final minutes, Jeff had been relieved, but only a little bit. He still felt the weight of his penalties, along with not getting a single point the whole game.

“Jeff?” It was Eric’s voice, and Jeff’s head jerked up to look his captain in the eye. Eric was standing in front of him, looking down at him with concern. Jeff realized he hadn’t moved in a few minutes and wasn’t sure how long Eric had been standing there. “We won, bud, chin up.” Eric tapped Jeff’s chin and Jeff couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto his face. He felt a flush creeping up his cheeks and he looked away from Eric, down at the floor.

“I know,” Jeff sighed. “It’s just… I was…” Jeff didn’t know how to finish that sentence and he felt Eric sit down beside him. Jeff’s heartbeat sped up and he looked around the locker room. No one was paying attention to them, of course. Eric was just being the captain, checking up on his teammate. This didn’t mean anything more than that, no matter what the butterflies in Jeff’s stomach were saying. Having Eric’s full attention was always a little bit nerve wracking for Jeff. “I was stupid.” Jeff finally settled on. Eric shifted and bumped shoulders with Jeff.

“You weren’t stupid, Jeff. You played a great game. You opened up a lot of scoring opportunities.” Eric left his shoulder pressed to Jeff’s and Jeff found it hard to concentrate. His entire body turned toward Eric without conscious thought from his brain and he caught Eric’s eye. Jeff opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but was left gaping like a fish when Eric scooted infinitesimally closer until they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. Eric was smiling softly, not breaking eye contact.

“Hey cap! Skins! You guys are going out with us, right?” Cam shouted across the locker room. Jeff’s mouth snapped shut with a click and Eric jerked away from Jeff in surprise. Jeff felt even more heat on his face as he looked at Cam. There was a glimmer in Cam’s eye and a small smirk on his face as he looked between the two of them.

“What do you say, Jeff? You wanna go out?” Eric asked, turning to look at him again. Jeff knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but images flashed through Jeff’s mind of candlelit dinners and movie nights spent cuddling on the couch. The _yes_ slipped out before he could stop it. “Great! We’re in.” Eric responded to Cam. He smiled at Jeff again before standing up to shower and get changed. Jeff groaned internally. He really didn’t want to go out but he knew if he didn’t show up, Eric would be disappointed. Steeling himself, Jeff headed to the showers.

***

Jeff was four beers in, but it wasn’t his fault. The boys kept buying rounds and Eric wasn’t drinking his; just kept sliding them over to Jeff. He wasn’t sure what Eric’s game here was, but his Canadian politeness kept him from refusing the drinks. Jeff has always been a cuddly, sleepy drunk, which he is chirped for constantly. But tonight, it’s Eric who has pulled Jeff in close with an arm around his shoulder, allowing Jeff to rest his head on his shoulder. Jeff’s just drunk enough that he doesn’t care what anyone’s going to say about it, but isn’t drunk enough to let out all of the things he wants to say to Eric. Most of them are things like _you have pretty eyes_ or _you’re my favorite person on the planet_ and _you always know how to take care of me_ . Basically all ways of saying _I love you_ without actually saying the words. Jeff has slowed down on the alcohol intake to make sure he keeps his wits about him, but the warm line of Eric down Jeff’s right side is causing his brain to short circuit. Most of the younger, single boys are out on the dance floor trying to pick up. The married guys are sitting around the table. Eric is having a quiet conversation with Cam, who is sitting across the table, and Jeff lets their voices lull him into a half-sleep. Jeff is startled into opening his eyes when he feels a hand gently settle on the top of his head. He knows it’s Eric’s hand. What he doesn’t know is what it’s doing on his head.

Jeff slants his eyes up to try to catch a glimpse of Eric’s hand, which hasn’t moved except to gently stroke Jeff’s curls with his thumb. When he’s unsuccessful with that mission, Jeff looks to Cam to see if he’s noticed. Of course, because it’s Cam, he has. He has that amused look on his face, that _I know something you don’t know_ look. He subtly winks at Jeff before returning his attention to Eric, and Jeff is even more confused than before.  Giving up on subtlety, Jeff turns his head and looks up at Eric, who responds by turning to Jeff. Eric looks down at him with a smile that lights up his face as he pulls on one of Jeff’s curls. That smile takes Jeff’s breath away and all he can think is _oh_. He licks his lips and watches Eric track the motion with his eyes. They stay like that for a few breaths before Eric finally speaks.

“Jeff, I think it’s about time that I take you home.”

 

~~~

Find me on tumblr at [kkane88](https://kkane88.tumblr.com/)


	2. Kiss on the Back of Their Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I've learned: It is a lot easier for me to write Kane/Toews than it is to write Staal/Skinner.
> 
> Sickfic.

Patrick was absolutely refusing to get out of bed today. He had woken up in a cold sweat with a pounding headache and an upset stomach and his first thought had been _hangover_. Logically he knew that couldn’t be the case, though. They had played a game the night before but, even knowing they had a day off the next day, he had begged off going out in favor of going home and to bed. He had been unusually exhausted and now he knew why. Briefly considering getting out of bed to get some water, he nixed that idea the second he tried to move and a stabbing pain shot across the back of his eyes. He blearily opened one eye and caught sight of his phone on the nightstand. Throwing out a hand, Patrick blindly groped for it until he managed to pull it over to the bed and under the covers that he had pulled over his head.

“ _m dyinig snd hlp_ ” he texted Jonny. He didn’t wait for a reply before throwing the phone back onto the table and falling back to sleep. It wouldn’t take long for Jonny to show up. Some time later the sound of the front door slamming shut woke Patrick up and he opened his eyes just in time to see Jonny throw open the bedroom door. “Oh thank God.” Patrick sighed while also throwing the blankets back over his head. He’d never regretted giving Jonny the spare key, but he was extra glad about it now. “Get me some water, Jonny, I’m not gonna make it.”

“Patrick.” Jonny’s unimpressed voice filled the room and Patrick groaned. Jonny only called him ‘Patrick’ when he was in trouble and he was like 85% sure he hadn’t done anything this time except get the flu. When Patrick didn’t respond, Jonny walked over to the bed and tugged the blankets all the way off of Patrick. Groaning again, Patrick curled up on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest. Jonny huffed and reached out to push Patrick’s curls away from his face to look him in the eye, pausing at the heat of Patrick’s skin. While he was a little too out of it to catalog his body temperature, Patrick could tell from the way he was alternatively sweating and shivering that he probably had a fever. Jonny crouched down to be at eye level with Patrick, smiling as Patrick peered back at him pathetically. Patrick pouted his bottom lip out dramatically, causing Jonny to roll his eyes, but his expression softened as he ran his hand down Patrick’s hair to rest on his neck.

“Jonny, can you please get me some water?” Patrick asked nicely, changing tactics and knowing that Jonny would cave. He can pretend to be Captain Serious all he wants, Patrick knows better. He’s a big softie, especially for Patrick. They’ve never acknowledged this thing between them. Patrick couldn’t even put a name to it if he tried, and right now he was too tired to think about it. All he knew was that Jonny would be here for him no matter what. Jonny would always take care of him.  

“Sure, Pat. Sit tight.” Jonny replied, removing his hand from Patrick’s neck. Patrick whimpered at the loss of contact but relaxed when Jonny gathered up the blankets and tucked them around Patrick. He felt a little bit like a burrito and was finally able to relax. Jonny left the room quietly, leaving Patrick to doze and wait for him to come back. When he finally did come back with the requested water, he also brought some red gatorade (Patrick’s favorite; the only flavor that matters) and some chicken soup.

“I love you.” Patrick moaned, trying and failing to sit up. Jonny rolled his eyes and set everything on the nightstand before reaching out to help Patrick sit up. Patrick shuffled back to lean against the headboard and Jonny handed him the water first.

“Patrick.” Jonny scolded again when Patrick tried to chug the water. “You’re gonna make yourself throw up.” Patrick grumbled but obligingly slowed down, sipping the water until the bottle was empty. Jonny took the bottle and swapped it out for the soup, eyeing Patrick suspiciously to make sure he wasn’t going to drop it all over himself.

“Where did you get this anyway? I don’t have any soup.” Patrick asked when he was about halfway through the bowl. Jonny turned slightly pink and cleared his throat.

“I stopped to get it on my way over. I figured you wouldn’t have anything useful in your kitchen.”

“Oh ha ha. I have gatorade. And… crackers and stuff.” Patrick argued. Jonny gave him a flat look and Shark Eyes™ until Patrick finishished his soup. Not that Patrick was affected by said Shark Eyes™ anymore, he just figured since Jonny went through all of that trouble to bring it, Patrick might as well be polite. Just the actions of sitting up and eating had zapped all of his energy, so when Jonny took the bowl from him, Patrick slipped back down the bed and pulled the blankets over himself. Jonny disappeared briefly to clean up the dishes like the clean freak he pretends not to be. When he came back, he stood in the doorway just watching Patrick for a moment. Patrick watched him back. Jonny walked over and put his hand back on Patrick’s forehead.

“Do you need anything else?” Jonny asked softly. Patrick was caught by the look in his eyes. They may not talk about their feelings, but everything is written there on Jonny’s face and it makes Patrick pause. He has a choice to make here. Now that Patrick’s been taken care of, he could tell Jonny that he’s fine, to go home, to not worry about him. Or he could ask him to stay. Looking at Jonny, the choice is easy.

“Can you stay with me?” Patrick asks quietly. Jonny seems surprised by the seriousness of Patrick’s request.

“Of course, Peeks. I’ll be in the living room.” Jonny says and starts to pull away, but Patrick stops him. He has to take a deep breath before he continues.

“No, Jonny, I mean… stay. Here. Please.” Jonny just looks at him for a second before nodding.

“Okay, Pat.” Jonny agrees softly. Patrick is relieved and watches as Jonny takes his shoes off before circling around the bed and laying down. Patrick can feel how tense Jonny is. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve ever shared a bed, but there’s something different about it this time. It makes Patrick’s head hurt and his patience thin.

“Jonny. Stop thinking so loud and cuddle me, dickhead.” Patrick demands. Jonny huffs out a laugh before turning over and throwing an arm around Patrick’s waist. Patrick relaxes almost immediately and pulls on Jonny’s arm so they’re completely pressed up against each other. Sighing in contentment, Patrick starts nod off into sleep when he feels the lightest brush of lips against the back of his neck. “Jonny?” Patrick asks, letting a small smile curve up his lip.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to talk about this tomorrow.”

***

Find me on tumblr at [kkane88](https://kkane88.tumblr.com/)


	3. Distracted Hand Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane/Toews

Patrick really does not like to be touched. It’s one thing during a hockey game to be checked into the boards or hugged in a celly. It’s something entirely different off the ice for someone to ruffle his hair, or lay a hand on his back, or try to bear hug him. It’s not that Patrick doesn’t love the guys, he does, but he can’t help but tense up every time Saader throws an arm over his shoulder or Shawzy jumps on his back for a surprise piggyback. He tries not to let it show on his face. It’s different with the older guys, like Seabs, Duncs, and Sharpy. They’ve figured it out by now and they’re a little better about giving him just a quick clap on the shoulder (except Sharpy, who can’t resist ruffling Patrick’s hair every once in awhile). It’s different with Jonny. For some reason it had never bothered Patrick when Jonny touched him, and Jonny was the most tactile person he’d ever met, at least with Patrick. Patrick’s favorite was when Jonny would lay a hand on the small of his back and guide him wherever they were going. Patrick would die before he ever admitted that out loud, of course. He liked that Jonny was bigger than him and would use his size to push Kaner around; that Jonny would put a hand on his arm to get his attention or nudge him with an elbow or shoulder.

So now, sitting in the crowded bar and watching the rookies hit on girls who were way out of their league, the only redemption was Jonny. It’s the worst when they’re out at bars. Once Patrick gets drunk he’s a little less careful about who’s touching him, but he doesn’t drink so much these days. He’s ashamed of his past, but he’s moved on and he’s trying to be a better person. The main reason he used to get so drunk before anyways was to be able to handle the crushing press of bodies around him; people throwing themselves into his personal space and acting like they had a right to be there. It was nauseating. He much preferred to be exactly where he was in that moment: pressed into the booth with Jonny at his side, nursing the beer he’s had since they got there. Sharpy was on his other side, carefully keeping some distance between them, showing Patrick pictures of his wife and daughters that would make even the coldest of hearts melt. Jonny was having a similar conversation with Duncs about Colton.

“Why am I sitting here with all the old guys?” Patrick lamented to Sharpy. “All you wanna talk about are your babies.”

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t love the babies, Peeks.” Sharpy teased. “Maddie’s been asking when you’re coming over to play dress up with her.” Patrick couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face.

“Why don’t you ever ask me over, then, dickhead?” Patrick countered. Sharpy rolled his eyes and snorted.

“I can’t ever get you away from your shadow over there.” Sharpy used his bottle to point at Jonny, making Patrick roll his eyes. He didn’t deny it.

“Then invite us both over. I’ll play dress up with Maddie and Jonny can play dolls with Sadie. It’s a win-win.” Patrick ignored the knowing look in Sharpy’s eyes. Nothing makes Patrick more in love with Jonny than when Jonny plays with kids. There’s a whole future laid out in front of Patrick’s eyes, with babies wearing Toews jerseys (or Kane-Toews jerseys, he’s not picky) and standing between them holding both of their hands while learning how to skate. The thought of it makes Patrick’s heart constrict painfully. Of course, he and Jonny have to actually be in a relationship before any of that happens. Patrick’s well aware, he just… hasn’t gotten up the nerve to do anything about it. He’s biding his time. Or something. Definitely not scared. Patrick is startled out of his thoughts when a hand brushes his thigh before settling on top of his own hand. He knows it’s Jonny’s hand. Patrick feels his eyes go wide as he stares unseeingly at the table in front of him. Jonny’s hand lazily curls around Patrick’s, fingers sliding together easily. Jonny is moving Patrick’s hand around to wherever he wants it to be in the same way that he usually uses his body to push Patrick around. Sharpy clears his throat and Patrick’s head snaps over to look at him.

“You ok, Peeks? You’re looking a little flushed.” Sharpy’s obviously laughing at him, but honestly when is Sharpy  _ not _ laughing at him? Patrick is just having a little bit of a hard time concentrating when Jonny is sliding his thumb softly across Patrick’s wrist like it’s nothing, like it’s an afterthought.

“Yeah, fine.” Patrick’s voice is a little gruff, so he clears it and tries again. “I’m good.” Patrick sees Sharpy’s eyes dart down to Patrick’s lap, where Jonny still has a hold of Patrick’s hand and is lifting each finger one by one before letting them go. He’s not even faltering in his conversation with Duncs and Seabs, hasn’t even looked over. Patrick isn’t sure whether or not he should be offended.

“Yeah, alright. I’m gonna go get another round. I’m gonna need it.” Sharpy laughs before heading to the bar. Patrick turns to look at Jonny, and Jonny turns in response. Patrick gives him a pointed look, hoping for some kind of reaction, but Jonny just gets that little confused crease between his eyes. Patrick rolls his eyes and looks down and Jonny follows his eyes. He pauses for a second, like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. And then he very deliberately turns Patrick’s hand over and links their fingers. It wouldn’t mean anything. It  _ shouldn’t _ mean anything. But it does. Patrick sucks in a quick breath and looks back up into Jonny’s dark eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks Jonny softly. He doesn’t know what he means so there’s no way Jonny knows what he means. But a small smile lifts up the corner of Jonny’s lips and he strokes Patrick’s hand with his thumb.

“Yeah, Pat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be Seguin/Benn but this one just really hit me as a Patrick/ Jonny thing. I think I might explore this one more outside of this fic.


	4. Gentle Knee Caress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benn/Seguin  
> Established relationship

Tyler hates long flights. The boys chirp him for not being able to sit still, but he just gets so _bored_ just sitting there. During the shorter flights he can distract himself with games on his phone or a movie or something, but half an hour into this one and he can’t stop bouncing his legs. He and Jamie are watching a movie together ( _The Hangover_ , because it’s a classic), but Tyler just can’t concentrate.

“I’ll be right back.” Tyler finally says and climbs over Jamie to get into the aisle.

“Where are you going? We just started the movie.” Jamie protests, grabbing Tyler’s wrist. That alone almost causes Tyler to melt back into his seat, but he knows it would only be a few minutes until he was ready to pull his hair out again.

“Watch it without me. I just need to take a walk.” Tyler explains, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through Jamie’s hair, maybe grab a handful of it and pull him up for a kiss.  PDA in front of the team is a big no-no for both of them, even though most of the boys have figured out that something’s going on between them. It’s still new enough that they don’t get chirped for it, although the knowing glances are enough to make Tyler blush. Tyler’s pretty shameless about everything, so even if they don’t acknowledge what he’s blushing about, they can’t resist teasing him. But Jamie always gets this small, pleased smile on his face and that’s… yeah. Tyler would go through anything just to see Jamie smile. Thankfully, Jamie’s on board with the no PDA thing, which means he won't embarrass himself by climbing in Jamie’s lap in the middle of the plane on the way to a game. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

“Alright.” Jamie agrees with a sigh, starting to let go of Tyler’s wrist. Tyler risks grabbing Jamie’s hand and squeezing it quickly, knowing that no one is paying attention. Probably. Hopefully. Jamie smiles at him and turns back to the movie and Tyler heads down the aisle to the bathroom. After doing his business, he starts looking for awake teammates to annoy. There’s a group of guys playing cards at the front of the plane, but he’d interrupted enough card games to know they would get mad at him, so he resists. He stops by Bish first, looking over his shoulder at his game of Candy Crush, suggesting moves and cheering obnoxiously when Bish wins with one move left. Bish rolls his eyes (fondly, in Tyler’s opinion) and pushes Tyler away. Tyler moves on to his next victim. He startles Rads when he throws himself down on the empty seat next to him. Rads isn’t doing anything interesting, just playing some weird number game on his phone that looks super boring and super hard. It gives Tyler a headache, so he moves on. He hasn’t gotten to know Zucc very well yet, and a captive audience is the best audience, so he spends some time having a quiet conversation with him learning about his family and friends and interests. When the conversation naturally comes to a lull, Tyler excuses himself and makes his way over to Val who is reading some book in Russian. Tyler can’t tell if Val is purposely ignoring him or if he’s just so engrossed in his book that he doesn’t realize Tyler is there. Either way, Tyler knows when he’s not wanted, and he can feel Jamie’s eyes tracking him, so he makes his way back down the aisle to Jamie.

“I’m back.” He announces happily, smiling widely at Jamie. Jamie looks at him flatly and Tyler climbs over him back into his seat. “I missed you.” he says quietly just to see the tips of Jamie’s ears turn pink.

“You were gone for 10 minutes.” Jamie says like it isn’t a big deal. Tyler sees right through him. Jamie’s always been a little bit shy and a little bit clingy. Tyler _loves_ it. People make fun of Tyler all the time for being an attention whore, and he’s not even going to pretend to deny it, but Jamie makes him feel like the center of the universe. They work well together. He lets the dopey, fond smile show on his face as he feels Jamie’s hand land on his knee.

“You missed me, though.” Tyler says smugly. Jamie squeezes his knee a little tighter.

“I always miss you, Ty.” Jamie admits quietly and it settles over Tyler like a blanket, calming him. Is it unhealthy? Probably a little bit. But he’s a hockey player, he lives on dysfunction. Tyler takes a quick peek around to make sure no one is paying attention before planting a kiss on Jamie’s cheek.

“Well then it looks like you’re just gonna have to keep me around.”


	5. Lazy Hand Holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gallys (as requested by Milionking. I hope I didn't disappoint).  
> If anyone has requests for any of the other prompts (even already completed prompts) let me know!

Inspired by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RykM4joNLzE&list=PLWiNlTm7hlnObiG3mNAX28y6C-AqrpQEH)

~~~

Alex walked away from the Who Knows You Best challenge feeling a mix of emotions. Just like always when it comes to Brendan, there was a swirl of sadness mixed with longing and a pinch of what could be called hurt. It’s really hard to be in love with someone who makes you sad all the time. It’s not so bad in private. When it’s just the two of them, Brendan becomes a different person. He puts away the persona of the loud, obnoxious, carefree frat boy and becomes softer. Quieter. He’s always willing to listen and just _be there_ for Alex. That makes it so much worse when, in front of the cameras, Brendan is constantly telling everyone they’re not friends. He’s said it so often that Alex has started to mimic him just to keep up appearances. He maybe let his bitterness show a little bit too much in the Who Knows You Best challenge video. It was Brendan’s comment, the “ _I could care less about him_.” That had really set Alex off.

 _“We’re not friends. People think we’re friends. No. It’s stupid._ ” Alex had grumbled in response. Brendan’s silence had been telling, but Alex couldn’t stop himself. _“We’re just put on the road together in the same room_.” He had continued, pretending to look for questions on his card.

“ _I have to babysit him. They throw me an extra $20 per diem_.” Brendan had shot back. Alex had swallowed hard, trying to hide his hurt. The tension in the room built up until the crew and Brendan started laughing nervously. Alex did his best to avoid looking at Brendan and the questioning look he knew he would see, so he had quickly changed the subject back to the game. He was also maybe still a little bit hurt that Brendan didn’t remember his birthday. He always remembers Brendan’s, of course, but he didn’t want to be too obvious after snapping out that question.

Alex is startled out of his thoughts when he hears a knock at his apartment door. Not many people come to visit him without advanced notice, and the ones that do (his sister or Brendan, mostly) don’t usually knock. Alex decides to ignore it in favor of continuing to sit on his couch staring at the blank TV screen. It’s probably not important anyway. Or so he thinks, right up until he hears a key in the lock and Brendan swings the door open. Alex is startled, but not startled enough to get up. He just looks over at Brendan as he makes his way over to the couch and flings himself down next to Alex. Alex is too tired to deal with this and just goes back to staring at the TV in silence.

“What’s going on, Chucky?” Brendan asks a few minutes later, his tone serious.

“Um… nothing. Obviously.” Alex snipes back, choosing to answer the obvious question instead of the one Brendan is really asking. Alex is startled when he feels Brendan’s hand touch his own, but he doesn’t react, even as Brendan slides their fingers together and laces their hands. He pulls Alex’s hand off of his stomach where it was resting and lets their joined hands settle between them. Alex’s heart is racing. This isn’t something that they do. Alex may have been harboring this crush on Brendan for awhile, but they’ve never casually touched each other outside of goal cellys. It makes it a little bit difficult to hear what Brendan is saying.

“Come on, Chucky. I know you’re upset about something. You know you can talk to me about it.” Brendan says while gently squeezing Alex’s hand. Alex has a couple of false starts, trying to gather the courage and the words to say what he wants to say.

“You just… why do you…” Alex huffs as the words fail him, but Brendan waits quietly and patiently. It only makes Alex angrier. “Why are you even here? You’re always telling everyone we’re not friends. It doesn’t matter to you when I’m upset.” Alex finally forces out. Brendan blinks at him, stunned and confused. It’s Alex’s turn to wait, and he’s never been very patient. “Forget it, it’s stupid.” Alex tries to pull away and stand up, but Brendan keeps a hold of his hand and pulls him back down.  
“No, Chucky. Alex, wait!” Brendan calling him Alex is enough to make him pause. He can’t remember the last time he had heard that. Alex settles back down on the couch, looking anywhere but at Brendan. “It’s always a joke, Alex. You know we’re friends. You’re my _best_ friend, man, you know that.” At Alex’s silence, Brendan shrinks back. “Or maybe you don’t know that. But you say that stuff, too!”

“I say it because you say it!” Alex blurts out. “You’re always telling everyone we’re not friends so I think it must be true. It’s fine; you don’t want me as a friend. It’s whatever. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alex, stop!” Brendan demands. “Look at me. Please, Chucky.” Alex looks over reluctantly to see Brendan with wet eyes, not quite crying but obviously very hurt. “I never meant to make you feel like you don’t matter to me. Honestly, Chucky, you’re my _best friend_ . You _know_ that.” Brendan seemed like he was almost begging at this point.

“You said you don’t care about me.” Alex finally said softly. Brendan moved closer to Alex, keeping their hands linked and reaching out to hold his other hand. He waited for Alex to look at him.

“I only said that because I was afraid people would realize how much I actually do care about you.” Brendan admitted. “It’s scary knowing that thousands of people are going to watch that video and maybe realize how I feel about you.”

“What do you mean? How do you feel about me?” Alex was afraid of the answer, but he was even more afraid of letting this moment slip past him. He had to know for sure. Brendan laughed humorlessly and looked down at their joined hands.

“I love you, Chucky. If you don’t… you know… I don’t expect you to feel the same way. We can go back to normal and pretend this didn’t happen if you want. But I need you to know that you mean _so much_ to me, Alex. I’m sorry I ever made you feel any different.” Alex is stunned by Brendan’s admission and how brave it was of him to tell Alex how he feels. He pulls one of his hands out of Brendan’s grasp and sees his shoulders slump in defeat before Alex pulls him closes and kisses him. It’s a short kiss; nothing mind blowing except for the fact that it’s Brendan that he’s kissing. It’s over before it really starts. But the look on Brendan’s face can only be described as awestruck. Neither one of them react for a few moments before a big grin lights up Brendan’s face. “Oh.” Brendan breaths out.

“Yeah, oh. I love you, too, you idiot.” Alex huffs out before pulling Brendan back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments in that video were saying "They're like an old married couple!" but the more I watched it (for "research") the more sad it seemed to get. Also, Brendan really just seems like the kind of guy who would be a crier.


	6. Toying With Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff has a concussion and Eric uses pet names  
> Alternatively titled: Eric loves touching Jeff's hair

Jeff whimpers when he hears the front door to his apartment opening and closing quietly. The only person with a key is Eric, and Eric is the last person that Jeff wants to see him like this. He hasn’t moved for a couple days except to get water and light snacks. He hasn’t showered or changed clothes. Basically, this concussion is taking a major toll on him and now Eric is going to scold him for not taking care of himself. Jeff listens to the footsteps traveling around his apartment and has a brief moment of fear when he thinks,  _ what if it isn’t Eric? _ Jeff can’t remember if he had locked the door when he came home the other day. And then he decides he doesn’t care. Someone can steal all of his stuff if they want, it’s not like he can’t afford new stuff. As long as they don’t come in the bedroom. Just as he thinks that, the footsteps stop right outside of his door. There’s a pause where Jeff holds his breath, and then a soft knock.

“Jeff? Are you in there?” Eric calls quietly. Jeff debates not answering just to see what Eric would do, but he knows him well enough to know he would just come in anyway.

“Yeah.” He finally responds and the doorknob turns. Eric pauses in the doorway and Jeff makes sure to keep his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see Eric taking in the room, which is very messy, or Jeff, who is also very messy. He’s startled when he feels a hand brush over his hair.

“How are you feeling?” Eric asks softly, keeping his hand on Jeff’s head.

“‘m tired. Head hurts.” Jeff can’t manage more than a few words at a time.

“What have you eaten today?” Eric crouches down next to the bed and Jeff opens his eyes. Eric looks concerned but relaxes slightly when Jeff makes eye contact with him. Jeff tries to smile reassuringly but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace and he refuses to answer: he can’t really remember the last time he had eaten anything. Eric seems to understand this and sighs heavily. “I’m gonna make you some food, alright? While I do that, will you be able to shower for me, sweetheart?” Jeff groans internally. This was a  _ thing _ Eric had been doing. He had figured out that whenever he calls Jeff a pet name (honey, sweetheart, babe, etc.) Jeff will do whatever he asks. It’s mostly because Jeff doesn’t really know how to react, but partly because it makes him go soft and starry eyed. He doesn’t want Eric to see so he goes off and does whatever Eric asked.

“Yeah.” Jeff agrees, trying to sit up and whimpering in pain until Eric pulls him all the way up, maneuvering Jeff around so his legs are dangling off the side of the bed. Jeff closes his eyes and breaths through the pain, feeling Eric’s hand come back up to stroke his hair and his forehead resting gently against Jeff’s.

“I know it hurts, baby, I’m sorry.” Eric sooths. Jeff’s head is swimming and he breathes through it until he settles.

“Okay. I’m okay.” Jeff stops breathing when he feels Eric’s lips press against his forehead and his eyes fly open. He’s not sure what his expression looks like but it makes Eric smile fondly.

“Are you good to get in the shower or do you need my help?” Eric asks. Jeff shakes his head, having mental images of Eric undressing him and standing under the water with him. If Jeff wasn’t in so much pain, there might have been an  _ issue _ developing.

“I can do it.” Jeff promises. “Thanks.” He goes to stand up, allowing Eric to pull him up, and then takes a step away from Eric.

“I’ll make you some eggs, if that sounds good.” Eric checks, and Jeff agrees. He’s so hungry that he would eat anything at this point. Eric leaves the room and Jeff goes through the motions of showering. It is a relief to actually feel clean and he spends more time than he probably should just standing under the water. When he finally leaves the shower, he brushes his teeth and puts on fresh clothes and actually feels a lot better. He probably should have been taking better care of himself, but laying in bed had seemed like a better option. Besides, it’s a lot better when it’s Eric making him do it. When he passes by his room on the way to the kitchen, he notices that all of the blankets have been stripped from his bed. Confused, he goes to find Eric.

“What did you do to my blankets?” He asks after he reaches the kitchen.

“I put them in the washing machine.” Eric explains and Jeff sees him starting to blush. “Sorry if I overstepped, I just thought you would feel better with clean sheets.”

“No, it’s okay! Thanks, Eric.” Jeff smiles and goes over to lean against him. This is something he would normally stop himself from doing, but Eric’s here and taking care of him and being so thoughtful and Jeff just wants to touch him. Eric doesn’t hesitate to throw an arm over Jeff’s shoulder while he transfers the eggs from a pan to a plate with the other hand. After that’s done, Eric looks over and presses a kiss to Jeff’s temple before handing the plate to Jeff and moving away to start cleaning up. Jeff is frozen in place. Eric’s here taking care of him and kissing his forehead and calling him pet names and washing his sheets and  _ kissing his forehead _ and Jeff’s head hurts too much to process this. He shakes himself out of it and sits down as Eric slides over a glass of water and some tylenol. Jeff smiles gratefully.

“The trainers want to see you tomorrow to check up on you.” Eric tells Jeff after he’s mostly finished eating. “I’ll come pick you up and take you over there.” Jeff groans internally but agrees. That is not going to be a fun car ride, and the trainers are going to make him go through all kinds of tests. All he wants to do is  _ sleep _ . Eric must see that Jeff’s flagging because he takes the empty dishes away and shoos him off to bed. There’s a fresh set of sheets on the bed that Eric must have pulled from the hall closet and Jeff sinks gratefully into them, cocooning himself. He’s already half asleep when he hears Eric come in so he forces his eyes open.

“Do you need anything else?” Eric’s crouching by the bed again with a soft smile. Jeff’s heart starts to race but he speaks before he loses his nerve.

“Can you stay?” Jeff doesn’t meet Eric’s eyes, afraid of what he’s going to see. “Just for a little bit. I don’t want to be alone.” This is the most Jeff has said in days, but this is important.

“Of course.” Eric agrees easily, almost like he was waiting for this. He doesn’t hesitate before sliding down on the bed and pulling Jeff close. This is more than Jeff expected, but after everything else this morning he shouldn’t be surprised. Jeff’s head is resting on Eric’s chest and just as he’s drifting off to sleep, he feels Eric’s fingers sliding through his hair. He falls asleep with a smile.


	7. Long, Exhausted Hug from Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled, I Have A Lot Of Feelings About Jamie Benn  
> Post game 7 loss and Jamie is struggling to cope.  
> Hurt/comfort, light angst

For the first time this post-season, Jamie’s letting himself feel just how exhausted he is. He’s alone in his apartment, safely away from the eyes of the team and media, and all he wants to do is _cry_ . Maybe throw something breakable at the wall. He knows he disappointed everyone with his exit interview, giving the most generic responses possible. He’s heard the trade rumors that are flying and fans calling for him to have the C taken away and he just _can’t do this anymore_. All he’s ever wanted to do is play hockey and now he’s the face of a franchise and has all of this responsibility he doesn’t know what to do with and he never asked for any of this. Sometimes, in the deepest darkest places of his mind, he wonders if it wouldn’t be nice to be traded and stripped of the C. To just be able to play without worrying about management that doesn’t hesitate to blast you on the internet. He doesn’t let himself think those thoughts for very long, though. He’s grateful to be where he is and have what he has. Really.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when he hears his front door shut, but he doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen. He doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, and if this person has access to his building, it’s either family or a teammate. He’s not sure which is worse. Either way he’s going to have to pretend he’s fine long enough to get them to leave. He listens as this person makes their way around the apartment and to the kitchen but he doesn’t turn from where he’s leaning against the counter. Finally whoever it is stops in the doorway.

“Jamie?” It’s Tyler’s voice, soft and hesitant and so unlike Tyler that it makes Jamie pause. He wants more than anything to reach out to Tyler, to share his misery and let Tyler share his and then they can both start to heal from this. Instead, he puts a wall up and hopes it won’t crumble before he can get Tyler out of here.

“I’m not going to be very good company right now, Ty.” Jamie responds, still refusing to look at Tyler. He knows he should be checking up on the team, making sure everyone’s handling the loss ok, but he doesn’t know how to do that when _he_ isn’t handling the loss very well himself. He can’t turn around and let Tyler see the anguish on his face or the defeat in his eyes. He has to be stronger than that. He’s the captain.

“I just wanted to come check on you.” Tyler explains, taking a few steps closer. “You weren’t answering your phone, and I was worried.” Jamie had turned his phone off so he wouldn’t have to see all of the messages of people telling him how sorry they were for his loss, like it was a person who had died and not just Jamie’s chance to prove that he could be worth something. A sob choked itself off in his throat and Jamie tried to play it off as a cough, gripping the kitchen counter tightly. Of course Tyler knows him better than that.

“I’m fine, Segs, I just need to get some rest.” Jamie tries again to passive aggressively get Tyler to leave, but the gruffness of his voice gives him away. He hears Tyler’s footsteps getting closer until they’re right behind him and a tentative hands settles on his back. Jamie tenses up but doesn’t move away. The hand strokes from the small of his back up to his shoulder blades and back down a couple of times and Jamie feels himself starting to relax from the contact. A second hand joins the first and Jamie just _slumps_ , suddenly too tired to pretend. Tyler slips his arms around Jamie’s waist and hooks his chin over Jamie’s shoulder. They stand like that for what could be minutes or hours or days, Jamie letting Tyler just hold him and breathing together. It makes Jamie feel vulnerable. It’s not something he’s used to showing. “How are you doing, Ty?” Jamie finally asks, trying to turn the focus away from him.

“No. This isn’t about me, Jamie, this is about you.” Tyler says, gently but firmly.

“But-” Jamie starts before Tyler cuts him off.

“No, Jamie. Just because you’re the captain doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to take care of you, too.” Tyler is adamant and Jamie closes his eyes to stop the burning in them.

“But it’s my job.” Jamie protests weakly.

“No, your job is to be a leader, and that’s exactly what you’ve been. We made it to the second round game seven of the _Stanley Cup Playoffs_ , Jamie. Look how far we’ve come in the last couple of years, no matter what people have said about us.” Tyler pulls away from him and forces him to turn around, holding Jamie’s face in his hands and waiting for him to make eye contact. “You’re an amazing captain and an amazing friend.” Tyler says fiercely. “The best, okay? You did everything right and the loss is _not your fault_ . You took all of this pressure that was put on you and you turned it into something amazing. You’re allowed to be sad, Jamie. You’re allowed to be frustrated or angry or hurt. But you are _not allowed_ to blame yourself.” Jamie feels himself starting to cry and doesn’t stop it this time. Tyler pulls him down so his face is pressed against Tyler’s neck. Jamie doesn’t really believe him. Can’t believe him. But he wants to. He feels himself starting to shake with the effort of not sobbing. When Tyler starts stroking a hand though Jamie’s hair, Jamie just lets go. He lets all of the hurt and the frustration out in huge sobs that shake both of them while Tyler just holds him through it, making soothing noises. Jamie’s not sure how long he cries. He just knows that Tyler never lets him go, never acts like he’s waiting for Jamie to stop, or like he think’s Jamie’s weak.

When Jamie moves to pull away, some time later after the tears have stopped, Tyler lets him. He doesn’t let him go completely, keeping one hand on Jamie’s arm, not breaking the contact. Jamie grabs a paper towel from the counter behind him and wipes his face and blows his nose. He feels lighter; everything that had made him feel like the world was crashing down around him suddenly felt not-so-bad. He still has to deal with the loss, with the team, with management. But he feels like maybe he can handle it. And he won’t have to handle it alone. “Thanks, Ty.” He mumbles, voice rough. Tyler’s looking at him with soft eyes and a small smile. It makes Jamie’s breath catch. When Tyler slowly moves forward, pressing himself against Jamie from shoulder to knee, Jamie opens up to accommodate him. It feels natural. And when Tyler leans up, pressing his mouth gently against Jamie’s, it feels inevitable.


	8. Head On Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan is afraid of storms  
> There isn't enough Hallberle in the world, IMO.

Jordan can't focus on anything outside of the deafening thunder and the bright flashes of lightning. He had woken up in a cold sweat to the bed vibrating from the force of the storm and now he was curled up in the innermost corner of the room with his heaviest blanket covering his whole body. He  _ hates _ this. He hates feeling like a child every time there's a storm. He  _ knows _ he's safe, but that doesn't stop his heart from pounding or his hands from shaking. He's a hockey player, he faces way more dangerous situations every time he's on the ice. He shouldn't be afraid of the weather. He should have thought of this before he moved in with Taylor. No one except his family knows about his fear of storms, and he would prefer to keep it that way. The last thing he needs is to be chirped about something he's already embarrassed about.

There's another crash of lightning and a sob forces itself out of Jordan's throat. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself and starts humming a random tune. His mom used to sing to him when he was younger, but Jordan’s never been one for singing. It’s an exercise in futility anyway, as every time the storm makes itself known he’s ripped out of his thoughts and into the present moment. He’s so distracted by trying to distract himself that he doesn’t hear the door open or the footsteps coming closer. A hand touches his shoulder through the blanket at the same time that a particularly loud clap of thunder shakes the room. Jordan flinches so hard that the blanket is jerked off of his head and that’s when he sees Taylor’s concerned face as the man crouches down in front of him.

“Ebs, are you okay?” Taylor asks. Jordan’s embarrassed. He had tried to be quiet but now he realizes that he’s pressed against the wall that’s connected to Taylor’s room. He probably woke Taylor up.

“Y-y-yeah. S-sorry, Tay.” Jordan’s shaking too hard to speak clearly. Taylor reaches out and presses his hand to Jordan’s forehead.

“Are you sick? You should get back in bed.” Taylor orders. Jordan starts to agree, taking the out so he doesn’t have to explain, when another flash of lighting has Jordan cowering. He sees the understanding in Taylor’s eyes and waits for the teasing to start. But it never comes. Taylor stands up and starts tugging Jordan up by the arms. “It’s okay, Ebby. Come here.” Jordan allows Taylor to move him. He’s only a little surprised when Taylor pulls him over to the bed. He’s a lot surprised when Taylor lays down and then tugs until Jordan’s sprawled on top of him. Taylor takes hold of Jordan’s blanket and adjusts it until it’s covering both of them and then wraps his arms around Jordan’s waist under the blanket.

“W-what are you d-doing?” Jordan finds the courage to ask. Taylor just makes a sort of humming noise and guides Jordan’s head down onto his shoulder, the other hand stroking up and down Jordan’s back. Jordan’s so confused about this that he forgets to be scared of the storm… right up until he remembers. And then he flinches even further into Taylor’s hold. Taylor makes little soothing, shushing noises. “Sorry.” Jordan apologizes again. “This is s-stupid.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Ebby.” Taylor says firmly, holding Jordan tighter. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you.” Jordan lets himself relax, even knowing this isn’t quite buddies. At least, he’s never cuddled with his other friends like this and he’s sure if it were Nuge or Davo that they would have just started laughing at him. It’s always been a little different with Taylor, though. He’s never spent much time thinking about it. The storm has already started to recede and Jordan’s shaking soon stops completely. He waits, expecting Taylor to excuse himself back to his room, but not quite wanting to initiate the separation. He’s still feeling a little vulnerable and would prefer not to be alone. He knows Taylor’s awake because he’s still stroking Jordan’s back, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. “Goodnight Ebs.” Taylor says finally, still making no move to leave. Jordan relaxes, taking this as the signal it is that Taylor’s staying.

“Goodnight Tay.”

~~~

Jordan expects the next morning to be at least a little awkward. He wakes up with his face still pressed up against Taylor’s neck and an arm thrown over Taylor’s waist. He’s still asleep so Jordan slowly starts to ease away, hoping not to wake him. It doesn’t work, of course; they’re pressed so close together that any movement would be noticeable. Taylor opens his eyes slowly and looks up at Jordan groggily. He smiles tiredly at Jordan reaches out to pat Jordan on the top of the head.

“Good morning, Ebby.” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world to wake up next to him. He stretches and Jordan can’t stop himself from trailing his eyes down Taylor’s body before realizing what he’s doing and jerking his eyes back to Taylor’s face. Taylor hadn’t noticed, thankfully.

“Good morning.” he finally replies. “Sorry about last night.” Taylor waves away the apology.

“I didn’t know you’re scared of storms.” Taylor says. There’s no teasing in his tone or on his face.

“No one knows except my family.” Jordan explains. “I’m not exactly proud of it.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jordan.” Taylor makes eye contact and refuses to break it.

“I was cowering in the corner with a blanket on my head like a six year old!” Jordan blurts and then blushes. “It’s embarrassing.” Taylor rolls his eyes at him.

“Next time there’s a storm, if you don’t come get me I’m just going to come to you, okay?” Taylor demands. “Don’t be dumb, Ebs. Everyone’s afraid of something. You don’t have to be alone.” Before Jordan can respond, Taylor rolls of the bed. He presses a kiss to Jordan’s head, which cuts off any protest. That’s probably what he was going for. “I’m gonna get some coffee and breakfast. For both of us. I’ll be back soon.” And with that he walks out the door.


	9. Brushing Lips Over Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staal/Skinner again. First date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having trouble coming up with pairings/settings for 10 and 11 so if you have any suggestions, send them my way! If you want to send them anonymously, my tumblr is kkane88.tumblr.com

Jeff’s pretty sure this isn’t a date. Like, ninety percent sure. Or eighty percent at least. Seventy percent? Eric had never said it was a date, so that makes it not a date, right? It’s just two buds hanging out. Two guys having a nice dinner together. They’re both in Eric’s apartment and Eric is making some kind of pasta, dressed in a nice button down and jeans. Jeff wore something similar, mostly because he’s always trying to impress Eric and it makes him look older if he dresses nice. Jeff wouldn’t have thought anything was strange about this night compared to any other night except for the fact that Eric seemed so nervous when he asked Jeff to come over. He also asked if Jeff wanted to  _ come over for dinner _ instead of  _ come hang out _ , like he usually says. He keeps shooting Jeff little glances out of the corner of his eye and Jeff smiles reassuringly, making sure his dimple is on display.

“What are you making?” Jeff asks when the silence starts to get oppressive. Eric jerks a little bit, startled, and turns to face Jeff.

“Um, just some fettuccine alfredo.” He explains. “I’ve noticed that you like to order that. I have breadsticks and veggies, too. Is that okay?” He asks Jeff earnestly, like he’s really worried Jeff is going to say no. A thrill shoots up Jeff’s spine at the thought of Eric paying attention to him enough to know what he orders.

“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Jeff reassures. Eric grins, relieved, and goes back to stirring the pasta. “I bet it’s going to be delicious. You should cook for me more often.” Jeff says just to see the reaction. Eric shoots him a shy smile.

“Don’t say that before you’ve tried it.” Eric laughs. “The first time I tried to make this I didn’t put any oil in the water to keep the noodles from sticking. And then I overcooked the sauce. So when I served it to my family we had to cut the pasta into sections and then my parents pretended to love it and my brothers made gagging noises the whole time.” Jeff can picture it; Marc, Jordan, and Jared making a scene while their parents tell them to stop and Eric with an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. Jeff laughs along with Eric, knowing his captain’s tendency to be a perfectionist probably stemmed from growing up with three younger brothers who aren’t afraid to point out your mistakes.

“It’s going to be good because you’re the one making it, Eric.” Jeff counters, only realizing after he’s said it that his feelings were poking through a little bit. Eric’s pleased smile makes it worth it, though. They continue chatting until Eric starts to plate the food. Jeff insists on helping, even though Eric tries to make him go sit down and wait. Once everything’s settled and their forks are in hand, Eric watches Jeff as he takes his first bite. As expected, it’s delicious and Jeff almost moans in delight, grinning at Eric. “I told you it would be delicious!”

“It’s good, but don’t give me too much credit.” Eric demands. “The noodles came from a bag and the pasta from a jar.” Jeff gasps, clutching his chest dramatically.

“You mean you didn’t make everything from scratch? This is filth, Eric. I can’t eat this.” Jeff drops his fork onto his plate and Eric rolls his eyes so hard Jeff’s surprised they didn’t fall out. “It’s great, Eric.” he continues, dropping the act. “I don’t expect you to go all Master Chef for me. Although, I am curious about what the occasion is that I get a fancy dinner in the middle of the week.” Eric squirms uncomfortably.

“Well I, uh…” Eric starts and then pauses. Jeff’s never seen him this nervous and it’s freaking him out a little bit.

“Did I get traded or something? Sent down to juniors? My last meal before you tell me I’m dying?” Jeff asks, only half-jokingly. He stops at the look of horror on Eric’s face.

“NO! Of course not, Jeff!” Eric’s panicking and it’s making Jeff panic. Jeff reaches out and grabs Eric’s hand in an effort to calm him.

“I’m kidding, Eric… Unless I am actually being traded because that’s something I’d like to know.” Eric shakes his head again.

“You’re not going anywhere, Jeff.” Eric explains once he’s calmed down, still holding on to Jeff’s hand. “I just thought it would be nice to… just have dinner together. You and me.”

“O-kay.” Jeff says hesitantly. “But we have dinner together all the time and you don’t normally go through all of this trouble.” Jeff may be fishing a little bit, trying to get Eric to admit whether or not this is a date. He just needs to be sure, doesn’t want any miscommunication here.

“I… Jeff you have to know… that I...um…” Eric pauses and takes a drink of water. “I like you. As a teammate and friend but also… more.” Eric looks at him imploringly. “You know that, right?” Jeff feels the blush crawling up his face.

“I… had an idea. I’ve mostly been waiting for you to say something.” Jeff explains shyly. “Just so we’re on the same page, I like you too. As, um, more.” Eric’s grin is blinding and Jeff’s helpless to do anything but smile in return. Eric takes their still-clasped hands and brings them up to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss against Jeff’s knuckles before letting go.

“Well then, let’s finish dinner and then we can…” Eric smiles.


	10. Gentle Hug from Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeBrincat/Strome. Dylan is insecure and sad but Alex is the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the anon on tumblr who suggested DeBrincat/Strome for one of the prompts. I started reading fics to try and figure out their characterizations and fell down a RABBIT HOLE for a couple days before I remembered there are others things I needed to do.
> 
> I read a fic where Dylan calls Alex "Kit" and I fell in love with it so that's what I'm using for Alex's nickname in this.

Dylan’s  _ exhausted _ . He had been thrilled when he was drafted by the Coyotes: seeing a future ahead of him playing in the NHL, on the same ice with his best friends, if not on the same team. Watching Davo and Marns and Kit succeed on their teams and become big shots made Dylan  _ so, so happy.  _ And then the reality set in. He couldn’t find his place in Arizona. Being sent back and forth between leagues was expected at first. He wasn’t too worried. But time went on and Dylan just never… clicked. His skating wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t scoring like he should have been. He finally made it to the big show and then he just...flaked. He started thinking they had made a mistake with his draft pick. Maybe he shouldn’t have been drafted at all. He should have just stayed in juniors where he belonged, destined to watch his friends, his Otters, become the players that go down in history.

He kept in touch with the boys at first. They would talk about hockey and their teammates and points and then try and reassure Dylan that he would “find his footing” and “you’ll see, Stromer, it’ll work out.” He couldn’t handle it anymore. So he stopped calling. And so did they. Except Alex. It was always easier with Alex. They would spend time talking about movies or their families, or any number of irrelevant things. Sometimes they would fall asleep talking to each other late at night. It never felt weird or anything and Dylan allowed himself that one luxury. He would keep everyone at a distance until he either found his place or died trying, but he would still keep Alex.

And then he gets the news. He’s Chicago bound with Perlini, the both of them traded for  _ Nick Schmaltz _ of all people and in what world is he worth that? Unless the Coyotes threw him in as a side offer, which seems much more likely. They probably would’ve done anything to get Dylan off their hands. He doesn’t call Alex. He knows he should but he’s sure Alex already knows about the trade and he doesn’t know what he would say. The plane lands just in time for morning skate and Dylan and Brendan are passed from teammate to teammate while introductions are made and he meets  _ Kane and Toews _ and then there are phone numbers exchanged and is this seriously his life? And then there’s Alex, smiling at Dylan so big that Dylan’s half worried his face is going to stick like that.

“Stromer!” Alex greets, pulling Dylan in for a hug. It should feel awkward, since Alex can literally tuck his head under Dylan’s chin, but it’s amazing. “I missed you, man.”

“Hey, Kit.” Dylan responds softly, not quite managing a full smile. Dylan realizes in that moment that he hasn’t really smiled in months. He holds on to Alex for maybe a beat too long, but knowing that Alex is here… it makes Dylan feel like maybe he can be at home here. Not that it’s going to last long. He knows this is just a formality, bringing him to the locker room to meet the team, maybe joining a few practices or a game or two before they send him to Rockford.

“You’re gonna stay with me, right?” Alex asks. “I have an extra room. I mean, you can stay at a hotel if you want to, but I think it makes more sense for you to live with me.” The unspoken  _ while you’re here _ weighs heavy in Dylan’s mind, but he ignores it.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Dylan agrees. “Thanks, man. I’d love to see Ralph.” Alex’s smile is still blinding and this time Dylan feels himself smile in return. It’s hard not to in the face of all that joy.

The next few weeks are crazy. He’s playing hockey with some of the best players in the world and no one ever acts like he doesn’t belong. No one looks at him like they’re waiting for him to mess up; they invite him out with them after games and buy him drinks and Alex is always just  _ there _ , just by his side all the time and it’s amazing. Which is why Dylan waits for the other shoe to drop. He stops scoring, barely getting any points and he knows any day now he’s going to get the call that they’re sending him down. It steals his breath away sometimes. He knows he’s not good enough and they know he’s not good enough so why don’t they just send him away already?

It’s these thoughts that are running through his mind as he’s laying in bed tonight. They had won the game tonight but Dylan didn’t have a single point and when the boys had asked him to go out with them he had declined, saying he wasn’t feeling well. Alex had been concerned, but Dylan waved him off and practically forced him to go out with them. He’d had two goals, he deserved to celebrate. And doesn’t it just make Dylan a crap friend that he’s not celebrating with Alex? Add that to his never-ending list of failures. Dylan feels tears stinging the back of his eyes and doesn’t bother to stop them from falling. No one’s around to hear him so he lets loose the sobs that have been sitting in the back of his throat for months. He feels pathetic. He’s in the NHL; he’s literally living the dream that he’s had since he was a child. And now that he’s here, all he wants is to be home with his family not having to worry about points or winning or making it to the playoffs. To be able to talk to his friends without feeling jealousy or sadness or anger or anything else they don’t deserve just because he’s failed. He would hate himself if he were anyone else looking in. In fact, he does hate himself. He’s gotten what so many people in the world want and aren’t able to have and he’s throwing it away like it doesn’t even matter. He feels like an entitled, stuck up prick and that just makes him cry harder.

“Dyl?” Alex says from the doorway. Dylan flinches so hard he almost falls off the bed, hastily wiping tears off his face and clenching his teeth to keep quiet. He hadn’t heard Alex come home. “What’s going on?” Alex looks really worried, frozen in the doorway like he isn’t sure if he should come in or not. Dylan tries taking deep breaths to calm down and be able to speak, but he can’t get anything past the lump in his throat. Alex walks over to the bed slowly and sits, leaning against the headboard next to Dylan. Dylan can’t look at him. Even with the lights off, he knows he looks like a mess and, although Alex smells like a bar, he doesn’t seem drunk.

“Sorry.” Dylan manages to choke out. “Didn’t hear you come in.” Alex hesitates for a second before laying a hand on Dylan’s arm. Dylan wants to lean into it, press into Alex’s space and just  _ breathe _ but he  _ can’t _ .

“What’s going on, Dyl?” Alex asks again. Dylan moves, laying down with his back to Alex. He can’t have this conversation right now. Not while he feels rubbed raw. He shouldn’t have let himself fall apart like that in Alex’s apartment. Alex follows him down, and Dylan shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Alex slips an arm over Dylan’s waist and presses close, resting his head on the back of Dylan’s neck.

“What am I doing here?” Dylan asks softly, gaining courage from knowing Alex can’t see his face. He can feel Alex’s confusion in the silence. “I don’t belong here, Kit.”

“In… the apartment?” Alex asks hesitantly. Dylan chokes out a laugh.

“No, man. In the NHL. It’s not gonna last. They’re gonna send me down.” Dylan lets his self-pity spiral just for a minute, knowing Alex will let him have this. “Maybe I should just go home. Give up. I’ll never be good enough.” Dylan’s gaining steam, preparing to launch into all of the reasons he should go home, when Alex tightens his arm around Dylan’s waist almost painfully. “You should just forget about me.” Dylan settles on and all of the fight goes out of him. He slumps back further into Alex’s arms. Alex is quiet for a long time, and Dylan would be worried he’d fallen asleep if it weren’t for the tension in his body.

“I don’t even know where to begin, Dylan.” he says finally, and Dylan tenses. Maybe Alex had just been waiting for him to realize all of this before he agreed and sent Dylan packing. That thought doesn’t last very long before Alex starts speaking again. “You’re  _ amazing _ , Dylan. I just… don’t even know… have you been thinking this the whole time you’ve been here? What did they  _ do to you _ in Arizona?” Dylan flinches and Alex holds him impossibly closer. Alex sounds  _ broken _ ; like he’s physically distressed.

“Alex can we just… I’m tired. I just want… to sleep. Please.” He begs. He can’t handle Alex sounding like that because of him. “It’s late.”

“We’re going to talk about this in the morning. First thing.” Alex finally agrees. “Okay? I can’t believe you’ve-” he cuts himself off, sighing heavily. “In the morning.” Dylan waits for Alex to move, to go back to his room, but he doesn’t. He has a fleeting thought that Alex is afraid he’s going to run away, and he probably wouldn’t even be wrong. But for now, Dylan relaxes into Alex’s arms and lets his eyes shut, sleep following soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I'm cutting out prompt 10 because for some reason I just have terrible writer's block for that one. I might add it later if I can figure it out.


End file.
